debt
by ShadowsTakeAll
Summary: She doesn't think they even managed to finish the spell before Stiles – the demon – had attacked them. She wonders if they're all dead. She wonders if she's dead. (or: Lydia accidentally saves the nogitsune, who repays the debt.)


**Hi all. I've had a pretty good response to my stories so far, so I figured I'd have another go. This is set somewhere in 3B, with some things changed - you'll figure those out as you go along. As always, warning: this is not a happy story, I am not a happy person, this fic has no fluff, and someone ****_will_**** die. So, enjoy, review, maybe have a look at my other Stydia fics. Here you go.**

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Scott, Allison, and Isaac are all looking at her.

Lydia is very aware of this, so she looks anywhere but at them; her eyes roam around the room, flitting over photos and textbooks and piles of clothes on the floor. Isaac clears his throat, and out of the corner of her eyes Lydia sees Allison duck her head. Clearly they don't want to initiate the conversation, and she doesn't blame them.

The responsibility, as always, falls to the alpha of their ragtag little pack. Scott looks at her, waiting until _she's_ looking at _him_, and then he speaks. "So you, uh… stopped Deaton from exorcizing a demon?"

Put like that, it does sound bad. Lydia feels a blush rising to her cheeks, but she tries to cover it with a show of indignation. "In my defense," she says curtly, letting her gaze rest on each of her friends in turn, "nobody _told_ me that Stiles was possessed. I didn't even know about the…"

She waves her hand in the air, trying to recall the word.

"Nogitsune," Allison supplies.

Lydia nods at her, acknowledging the help, before going on. "Right. The nogitsune. If I'd known that Stiles was possessed, and that Deaton was trying to help, I obviously wouldn't have…"

This time she trails off, not because she can't finish the sentence – but because she doesn't want to.

Isaac has no such hesitation. "Dropped him to the floor with a spinning side-kick?" he says, trying to hide his smile.

"Well, yes." Lydia clasps her hands in her lap.

"We're sorry we didn't tell you," Scott says, sharing a look with the others. "We just didn't think that…"

"That I would want to know one of my friends is being controlled by a murderous monster?" Lydia scoffs. "Nah, why would I want to know that?"

"It's not like that," Allison says, sounding the faintest bit hurt. "It's just that you weren't there when we all found out, and we didn't want to get you involved if you didn't have to be."

This ties in with past experience – Lydia had been the last to know about all of this supernatural stuff, and even before she'd known, Allison and the others had been trying to protect her from it. This does not, however, make her feel any better. "And when were you planning on telling me about all of this?"

"We were…" Scott flounders. He hesitates, then his shoulders sag. "We're really sorry, Lydia."

There are more important things at stake, so Lydia doesn't push the issue. "It's okay," she says, although she's not sure how true that is. "There is one thing you can do to make it up to me, though."

Allison's eyes snap to hers. "Anything."

"Tell me what I can do to help."

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It's not a perfect plan, but it's an unspoken rule that none of them are to mention this.

"So we're all clear?" Scott asks, standing in front of the others. He leans against his car, trying to look casual, but they can all see the worry etched on his face. They're not supposed to mention this either. "We all know our jobs?"

"All clear," Allison says with a mock salute, and the other two nod.

"Good." Scott pushes himself off the car and goes around the back, pulling out a black bag from the backseat. "Now all we need is -"

"I hope I'm not too late."

All four teenagers turn at the sound of the voice. Deaton looks as calmly intimidating as always, as totally in control of any situation. He smiles at them all, and Lydia feels a pinprick of guilt.

"I'm sorry -" she starts, but he cuts her off.

"You didn't know," he says easily, as if earlier that day she hadn't nearly broken his ribs and allowed their possessed friend to escape. "Do we have everything we need?"

Scott opens the bag and shows the contents to Deaton, who looks pleased. "That should do it. And Stiles?"

"He'll be here in a minute," Scott assures him.

"How do you know he'll be here?" Isaac asks quietly, evidently unwilling to look like he's questioning their leader.

Scott takes no offense. "Curiosity," he says simply.

And sure enough, less than five minutes later Stiles pulls up in his old Jeep, his hands tapping on the steering wheel in time to the radio. He comes to a stop a few feet away from them, sits there for a moment, and then abruptly kills the engine.

"I heard you had a deal for me," he says, stepping from the car.

Lydia catches her breath; this is the first time she's seen him since she found out about his possession, and it's now very obvious that the person standing in front of her is not Stiles. It looks like him, but some of the details are off – he holds himself too proudly, his gaze is too sharp, his walk too quick. It's Stiles' body, but they all know who's in control.

Scott keeps his eye on Stiles, but jerks his hand toward Allison and Isaac. The two of them split off, carefully trying to surround Stiles – or rather, the demon in his body. "We do have a deal," Scott says, his voice surprisingly even. "We want our friend back."

Stiles comes to a stop, raising an eyebrow. "And what can you offer me in return?"

In answer, Scott only nods. Stiles frowns for a second, but suddenly he's on the ground, Isaac on top of him and Allison standing over them with a crossbow aimed at Stiles' face. The creature wearing Stiles' skin just laughs at them.

"You really think that's enough to defeat me?" it scoffs.

"No," Deaton says, "but this might be."

He and Lydia do their work quickly. A sachet of herbs thrown toward Stiles, a few words chanted in Latin. It's a powerful spell, but the downside of that is that it will take a minute or so to build up enough power to perform it.

And in that minute, everything goes to hell.

Lydia's not sure how it happens, but there's a flash of movement, a shriek, and then Stiles is on his feet and Isaac and Allison are on the ground. They're not moving, and Lydia can't tell if they're even alive. All she can do is stand frozen as Stiles advances toward them.

"Get out of here," Scott shouts, his face already morphing into wolf-like features.

"I'm not leaving," Lydia says, aiming for bravery when the truth is that she's not sure her legs would support her if she tried to run.

"How touching," the demon says, tilting its head and surveying them with apparent amusement. "You're all so loyal – I guess it's a good thing you're going to die together then."

There's no time to scream. The demon goes for Lydia first, charging at her with a sword that she swears he procured from thin air. There's no time to move. It hits her dead on, the sword plunging into her gut with terrifying ease. There's no time to breathe. With a Stiles-like grin the demon pulls the sword back out, and with a small gasp of pain-drenched horror Lydia tumbles to the ground.

The world goes black.

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The sky is white, and the world smells like chemicals.

Lydia's eyes flutter open and she takes in her surroundings. A hospital; of course. She tries to sit up, but pain shoots through her body with such force that she actually feels nauseated. Instead she closes her eyes, leans back against her pillow, and tries not to cry. The pain is worse than anything she has ever felt before, worse than anything she's ever read about. She can't even breathe without it radiating through her body, pinning her to the bed.

She tries to remember what happened, but everything is a blur. She doesn't think they even managed to finish the spell before Stiles – the demon – had attacked them. She wonders if they're all dead. She wonders if she's dead.

There's a knock at the door, and she blearily opens her eyes. Her heart leaps, and then it freezes, mid-air, mid-beat. Stiles stands in the doorway, hands in his pockets and a shy smile on his face. She honestly can't tell if he's real, if he's a demon, if any of this is happening, but she doesn't even care.

"Hey," Stiles says softly, closing the door behind him as he makes his way over to her. "How are you feeling?"

"Like someone ran me through with a sword."

A look of pain crosses Stiles' face. "I'm sorry about that. The demon took over, and I couldn't…"

"Are the others okay?" Lydia manages to sit up slightly straighter, but the effort almost makes her pass out.

"Yeah." Stiles sits down on the edge of the bed. "After you got hurt, Scott went wild. He managed to tackle me – it – and knock it out."

"Allison and Isaac, they're okay too?"

Stiles nods. "They're fine. They woke up, and Scott and Deaton gave them first aid. Nothing aside from a couple of scratches and bruises."

The news is welcome, but it doesn't stop the gnawing feeling in Lydia's stomach, something that makes it hard to breathe. "And you? Did they get the demon out?"

At this, Stiles pauses. It's enough of an answer, enough to make Lydia feel like all the blood is being drained from her body. "For now," he says. "The demon… it said that you saved it. That you stopped Deaton from forcing it out."

Lydia feels tears spring to her eyes. "Stiles, I'm so sorry, I -

"I'm not mad," Stiles interrupts gently, laying both of his hands on top of one of hers. "In fact, it turned out to be a good thing. Because of what you did, the demon let me… It let me take over. It wanted to give me the chance to say -"

He cuts himself off, but not before the meaning can make itself clear. "To say goodbye," Lydia finishes. The tears spill over, trickling down her cheeks. "Stiles, am I dying?"

He looks away, as sure an answer as any. If the pain hadn't been enough of an indication, the various machines she's hooked up to should have been a clue. It's a wonder Stiles was even allowed in here at all – he probably would have had to knock out a couple of nurses to be here. Which sounds awfully like something a demon would do.

"I'm so sorry, Lydia," he says, bringing her hand up to his mouth and kissing it, light as a butterfly's wings. "I didn't want it to end this way."

Lydia looks in his eyes, trying to work out if it's the demon or her friend talking. Maybe neither of them wanted this. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you," Lydia mumbles through her tears.

"Don't worry about that." Stiles brushes her tears away with his thumb. "It's all going to be okay."

She lets herself believe him, because she knows that for her it doesn't make a difference. Before she can say anything else, spasms of pain start to grip her body, and she can feel that this is the end.

"Goodbye, Lydia," says Stiles, or the thing that looks like Stiles, and then he's gone.

She stares after him, wondering which entity she was talking to. And as she closes her eyes for the last time, she wonders if it even matters.

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**I'm still trying to find 'my' style, which is why there may seem to be no consistency between my stories. So let me know if this one works, or if I should switch it up again. Thanks guys!**


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